


Definire

by tree



Series: Banned Together 2020 bingo fills [2]
Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: (more implied than explicit but important for context), 15th Century, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Crossdressing, F/M, Gen, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, Late Middle Ages, POV Multiple, Roman Catholicism, Secret Identity, but also a surprising amount of, disregarding research when it doesn't suit my purposes is also my jam, linguistic anachronisms, research is my jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24265849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tree/pseuds/tree
Summary: Five thematically linked vignettes set in a pseudo-Mediaeval Longmire AU.
Relationships: Walt Longmire & Victoria "Vic" Moretti, Walt Longmire/Victoria "Vic" Moretti
Series: Banned Together 2020 bingo fills [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751599
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020





	Definire

**Author's Note:**

> written for my Banned Together 2020 free space bingo square. i chose Sexually Graphic, which was given as the reason for the complaint against, and subsequent banning of, the Merriam-Webster dictionary in a California school in 2010. why? it contained “sexually graphic definitions.” i've chosen five words defined in completely non-sexual terms to use as prompts, but — and, kids, you might need a permission slip for this — they all have sexually graphic definitions, too. *gasp* the title is latin, meaning 'set bounds to'.
> 
> (if you're wondering what the h*ck is going on here, please read the [Mediaeval Longmire](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1751614) series description.)

     **arouse** (verb [with object]) awaken (someone) from sleep

Walt crouched beside his sleeping squire in the dawn light, intending to wake him. Instead he found himself studying the youth in repose: his rounded cheek flushed from slumber, his finely curved lashes at rest, his full lips slightly parted as though about to speak. Vic had given his age as fourteen when they met, and though he still possessed a smooth cheek and the higher pitch more suited to a younger child, Walt had no reason to disbelieve him. He'd known many a boy who had not begun his growth to manhood until his fifteenth or even sixteenth summer.

And yet, he could not quiet a lingering sense that something was amiss.

Lost in this contemplation, Walt was taken unawares by the golden eyes opening sleepily to meet his, by the soft smile gracing the wide mouth. Their shared gaze lasted for several heartbeats, while a strange and uncomfortable tenderness swelled in his breast. 

"Time to get up, boy," he said to break the unsettling spell, "else Dog will have your breakfast."

§

    **hot** (adjective) _Hunting_ (of the scent) fresh and strong, indicating that the quarry has passed recently.

"The scent is fresh," Sir Walter observed.

"Really?" Vic enquired in a dry voice, with an expressive look at Dog. The hound was busy contorting itself like an eel in its canine ecstasy, pausing now and then to sniff at the ground, quiver, and yip excitedly, before beginning the process anew.

With the faint curve of his lip that spoke of amusement, Sir Walter remounted his horse. "A little respect for your betters would not go amiss, lad."

"Aye, just as soon as I find one."

She earned a genuine chuckle for that bit of cheek and grinned widely in response. Warmth spread within her at the lightness in Sir Walter's manner, the lack of reserve. A long moment passed with his blue eyes holding hers before he looked away. Vic released the breath that had been caught in her lungs, disconcerted without knowing why.

Recalled to the purpose, Sir Walter whistled a sharp signal and Dog immediately calmed, all attention on his master. The forest around them seemed to settle into an expectant hush, as if it, too, was listening for the command spoken in Sir Walter's firm, resonant voice.

"Go."

§

     **intercourse** (mass noun) communication or dealings between individuals or groups

"And what of your master, eh?" asked the girl sitting next to her.

A scullery maid, Vic thought, but couldn't recall her name. The kitchens were too warm and too crowded, the conversations around her too dull to hold her attention. "What of him?"

"He has been a widower some years, has he not? I'm surprised no eager maid has snatched him up. A Magistratus is a fine catch to take as husband and he's pleasing to the eye for all his age."

"You make it sound as though he was in his dotage," Vic said hotly. "Sir Walter is not yet five-and-thirty."

The girl drew back with a look of surprise. "In faith, I meant no insult. Only that his duty must wear on a man's looks as well as his spirit." 

Somewhat mollified, Vic nodded in acknowledgment. 

"Still and all, he is a man," the girl continued. "Does he not wish for a woman to warm his bed?"

Vic was sorely tempted to tell her to mind her own business, but managed to hold her tongue. Gossip was more valuable than coin to a servant, she was discovering: traded and bartered like marketplace wares, it could elevate the lowliest or tumble the highest. Though the subject was not comfortable for her, she was shrewd enough to understand that refusing to discuss her master's business would do her no favours with her peers.

At length, she ventured to say, "Sir Walter is a very private man. I think he is content to remain faithful to the memory of his wife."

Her companion's eyebrows rose slightly. "Well," she said. "That is quite... admirable."

They were silent for a time, both feigning interest in the over-watered beer in their cups, before the other girl was drawn into a conversation across the table. Vic watched her fellows drinking and laughing and felt herself removed from the scene, set apart in some way from their cheerful comforts.

An unfamiliar melancholy weighed upon her. 

She recalled with longing the evenings she and Sir Walter had passed on their travels, when their only companions were Dog and the myriad stars in the heavens above. As if it were one of those stars, a flickering thought lit in her mind.

Perhaps he was thinking of them too.

§

     **climax** (noun) _Rhetoric_ a sequence of propositions or ideas in order of increasing importance, force, or effectiveness of expression.  


"I would sooner die than submit to such a life," she told Sir Walter fiercely in her final, most desperate defence. The declaration shocked her even as the words left her mouth, yet she felt their absolute conviction to her marrow. They were the culmination of a life bearing witness to the ugliness and uselessness of her likely fate.

Sir Walter regarded her gravely. "I would not wish for either of those ends to befall you."

Vic's limbs grew weak as relief coursed through her body. She had been so afraid that his sense of duty and honour would compel him to return her to her father's house. Weary and sore in both body and spirit, she simply lowered herself to the ground where she stood. Dog padded over and rested his great muzzle in her lap. More for her own comfort than his, she buried her fingers in the fur of his scruff and laid her cheek atop his head. When she looked across at Sir Walter, she found him watching them with an inscrutable expression.

"I am grateful," she told him sincerely.

"As am I."

With that enigmatic pronouncement, he rose and moved to where the horses grazed in the clearing's dappled sunlight. Vic was left to stare after him in bemusement until Dog rolled onto his back and demanded her undivided attention.

§

     **penetrate** (verb [with object]) succeed in understanding or gaining insight into (something complex or mysterious)  


Vic turned to him in her saddle, laughter ringing out at some mischief of Dog's. The noonday sun fell through the canopy of trees and bathed her in a shaft of its light. She glowed like a vision, so radiant as to dazzle his eyes. 

Walt felt his foolish heart rise in a giddy leap, only to fall like a wounded stag as an arrow of truth pierced him through.

It could not be, and yet it was. His sound reasoning to protect against it—her youth, her position as his squire, her intention for the Church—had all been for naught.

As she turned back to the path, he saw the light dim where she left it, and one thought filled the whole of his mind.

_God forgive me._


End file.
